


thunder at night, less a delight

by ACatWhoWrites



Series: A Prompt a Day in the Month of May [3]
Category: EXO (Band), K-pop
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Age Changes, Alternate Universe - Teenagers, Anxiety, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Late Night Conversations, Microfic, Rain, Short One Shot, Thunderstorms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-05
Updated: 2018-05-05
Packaged: 2019-05-02 08:30:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14540775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ACatWhoWrites/pseuds/ACatWhoWrites
Summary: Sehun doesn't like thunderstorms.





	thunder at night, less a delight

Summer heat brings thunderstorms. It's no surprise, and Sehun has witnessed many many storms.

But they still terrify him.

What's worse—he knows he won't make it home before they start, and he's already texted his mom to say he's crashing at the Kims' house rather than brave the rain.

And Jongin's already asleep. Nothing can disturb him. Sehun's left to suffer alone.

At the first rumble of thunder, Sehun sits up on his futon. The floor subtly shakes. Scrambling to his feet, he looks out the window, somehow more assured to watch the violent weather. If this is how he's gonna die, he wants to see it coming.

Lightning cracks between the clouds, and he stumbles to Jongin's bed, sitting shakily. Jongin murmurs something and rolls over.

It's ridiculous, he knows. Sehun is _thirteen_ and afraid of thunderstorms. _Why?_ He's never gotten locked outside or struck by lightning or anything, so he doesn't _get it_.

Rather than cower on his friend's bed and face teasing in the morning, Sehun creeps into the hall and sits on the sofa, wrapping the knit afghan around himself like a cocoon. He can see outside, behind the curtains. Rain pelts the window so hard he thinks it might be hail.

He's not sure how long he sits, mesmerized by the force outside, when someone else ambles down the hall and into the kitchen, heading to the fridge without seeing the shadow of the guest on the sofa until the light illuminates him.

Of course it'd be Jongdae, the second-youngest and most-eager-to-tease brother.

He jumps when he sees Sehun, nearly dropping the bottle of water. “Sehun,” he hisses, looking back and forth between the boy and the hall, “what are you doing out here?”

“Nothing.”

“Why aren't you in bed?”

He shrugs, entire body following in a jump when a particularly loud boom of thunder shakes the sky and even makes one of the dogs whimper in its crate.

“Oh. Afraid of thunderstorms, huh?”

Sehun holds the afghan closer as if to physically block Jongdae's scrutiny and keep his heart safely in his chest. “I'm not afraid...”

“Course not.” He drops the water bottle into his pajama pants pocket, stretching out the fabric and dragging the waistband down, if it wasn't tied securely. “Come on.” He holds out a hand to Sehun, who isn't sure why he takes it but allows himself to be lead back down the hall to Jongdae's room, across from Jongin's.

Jongdae's room isn't messy, but it is untidy, with clothes waiting to be put away, small succulents covering the window sill, various books lying out, and a pile of video games leaning precariously next to a small TV on the floor.

He guides Sehun to his bed and pats the mattress after throwing down the bed sheets. Sehun sits and is offered headphones. They muffle sounds but aren't noise-canceling. The ear pieces are printed with panels from a vintage Iron Man comic.

“I listen to classical music while working. This essay is actually due tomorrow.” He yawns. “So I can't be distracted by wanting to sing, but I hate silence... _Ah ha!_ ” he exclaims softly, producing a small black thing with a silver auxiliary plug. He plugs both his and Sehun's headphones into it, then plugs the black thing into his laptop.

Sehun doesn't know his classics, but he falls asleep to some pretty violin concerto and Jongdae's typing with the rumbling of the storm fading into his body like it belonged there.

**Author's Note:**

> I decided to try a prompt a day in May, not following any list. This came from **rain**.


End file.
